


goddamn professional

by mwestbelle



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Bartenders, Beefy Bucky, Cocktail Snobbery, Hipster Steve Rogers, M/M, Oral Sex, Strippers & Strip Clubs, mixology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 11:46:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6422605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mwestbelle/pseuds/mwestbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Bucky is a beefy stripper and Steve is a hipster bartender at the club with a crush. (Involves fewer stripper tropes than you probably hope)</p>
            </blockquote>





	goddamn professional

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anoneknewmoose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoneknewmoose/gifts).



> Anoneknewmoosee asked me for beefy stripper Bucky for her birthday! This is late, but hopefully she still likes it <3 Happy birthday, boo!

Steve is a goddamn professional, you know. He's never been one of those bartenders who spends more time doing shots than serving customers, he can whip up a round of Sex on the Beaches before the giggles stop, he knows the easiest way to wash off the unsexily crusty remnants of a Jell-o wrestling match, and, most important in his specific line of work, he _never_ fucks with the talent. 

And then Bucky Barnes shoots him a wink across the room, and suddenly Steve doesn’t feel so professional anymore.

“You should go for it,” Nat says while he’s mixing up drinks for her table; a scotch and soda, a gin and tonic, and apple juice in a rocks glass for her. She leans up against the bar while she talks, partially so he can hear her over the thrum of the music without shouting to everyone around them, and partially to show her ass off to the crowd. He’s relieved that she’s stopped contorting herself into the position that flaunts her ass to the room and her tits to him. Nat’s been working at clubs for a long time, and she’s used to flirting with bartenders for all kinds of little favors. It had taken a few months (and a few blatantly over the top requests that Steve is pretty sure were tests) for her to finally believe that he actually followed his rule.

He plops a big square cube into the apple juice (uncommon for a strip joint, but Steve’s a consummate bartender no matter what bar he’s behind) and pushes the glass toward her. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Rules are for schoolchildren.” Nat lifts her tray easily and gives Steve another pointed look. “He wants you to go for it.”

She sashays away before he can respond, ass jiggling and the dollar bills shoved into the leather thigh holster she always wears swaying in the damp air of the club. Steve sighs and turns back to his dirty glasses.

The thing is that he’s honestly pretty immune to all this. The glitz and the skin and the sex. He’s surrounded by beautiful nearly nude people on a nightly basis, and he’s seen those people compare bruises and pole burn, complain in great detail about the difficulties of getting glitter out of various crevices. It’s not Bucky’s biceps that entice him, or his wonderfully thick torso, corded with muscle, or the scratch of stubble across his jaw, the way he so effortlessly maneuvers his big body on stage, the way he smirks when he unsnaps the buckles on his harness or...well, okay, he thinks Bucky is pretty damn sexy. But that’s not what has him obsessing over the idea of breaking his one big rule.

It’s that after the customers have filed (or stumbled) out into the night, Bucky slides onto one of the barstools. His long hair is tugged back into a messy bun, a few loose sweaty strands still hanging around his face. He knocks on the bar with his knuckles, shooting Steve a crooked grin. “What do you have for me today, barkeep?”

And Steve drops what he’s doing, even though it’s going to keep him here another twenty minutes, and it’s already late as fuck, and shuffles under the bar for the mason jar he’s got squirreled away. Nick would kill him if he knew he’d brought anything homemade into the bar (hell, even Phill would probably frown really deeply, and Phil thinks he hung the moon), but he just can’t resist. It’s not like he’s serving it to customers.

“This is, um, my own take on a triple sec?” Steve unscrews the lid of the jar and offers it to Bucky to smell. He takes a dramatic whiff and grunts approvingly.

“Nice.”

Steve’s heart leaps, and he focuses on the drink so he doesn’t have to look at Bucky. His hands are always steady when he pours, combining his DIY Cointreau, gin, lillet blanc, lemon juice, a dash of absinthe...and let it be known Nick’s is the only strip joint in town that has absinthe behind the bar. He’d barely been there a week when Phil gave him complete control of the bar program and, well, he ran with it. He’s not an idiot, he focuses on the usual suspects and favorites. But there’s definitely a small but well-heeled subset of customers that make a point to patronize a nudie bar where they don’t have to compromise on taste. Still, he wouldn’t whip up something like this for just any customer. This is special.

He shakes the cocktail, then strains it into a delicate coupe. Steve almost never misses a chance to serve Bucky drinks in the tiniest, most fragile glasses. He handles them like a pro, thick, powerful fingers surprisingly gentle, and never acts like a pretty glass somehow tarnishes his masculinity. Bucky picks it up and smells the drink (he’s been well taught), and takes a slow sip.

“Jesus.” Bucky whistles, then takes another sip. Steve watches his lips brush the glass so tenderly, and his cheeks get hot. “This is great, Steve. What’s this one?”

“Corpse Reviver 2.” Steve smiles and ducks his head, hoping he can pass off the flush as one of pride. “It’s, uh, from the 30s. Supposed to give you energy.”

“God knows I can use it after tonight.” Bucky stretches. He’s just wearing a tanktop, and the strong muscles of his arms flex dramatically. “Who has a bachelorette party on a Wednesday?”

“I dunno, but I don’t complain about tips.”

“Easy for you to say.” Bucky grins. “All you gotta do is pour. It’s not your ass on the line.”

Steve blushes ridiculously, which is a habit he really is sick of but has never quite managed to break.

“Anyway,” Bucky says, mercifully ignoring Steve’s blush. “I could really use one of these when I’m trying to get up again after a shift like this.”

“Yeah?” _I could make you one,_ Steve wants to say, _every goddamn morning._ Instead he says, “I can, um, give you the recipe if you want.”

Bucky smiles, but for some reason it looks a little tight. He drains the rest of his cocktail and pushes the glass back toward Steve. “That’d be great, buddy. Thanks.”

*

Steve comes in on an afternoon before the club opens to do some inventory. A few of the performers are here rehearsing; rehearsing meaning fucking around, mostly.

Bucky and Clint are having some kind of competition, both of them shirtless in skimpy briefs that aren’t quite as glamorous as stagewear but still leave very little to the imagination. Steve watches Bucky wrap his big hands around the pole and pull himself up, apparently effortless if not for the way that the muscles in his arms and chest bulge. He climbs up a ways before flipping over, legs falling open into what looks like a full splits to Steve. Steve’s mouth goes dry, and Clint scoffs.

“Amateur shit,” Clint says, grabbing the next pole and shimmying up even higher, just as easy. There’s not even any bump n’ grind music on, nothing that they would normally dance to, but they’re so graceful, so completely in control of their bodies. It almost feels like a routine, watching the two of them flip around, showing off their best tricks to some croony indie music that Nat likes to pump through the sound system while she warms up.

Steve completely loses track of how many bottles of vodka they still have in stock, watching. Bucky’s starting to sweat, a faint sheen over his muscles, and he’s pulling stunts that are guaranteed to bring any crowd to its knees. But he’s grinning like an idiot, laughing a little breathlessly as he hooks his knee around the pole, stretches his body out parallel to the ground as he spins. And that makes Steve’s heart jump more than any sweat or bulging muscle ever could.

He tears his eyes away from them and ducks behind the bar with his clipboard. He has an actual job to do, a job that doesn’t include drooling over someone he can’t have.

Distantly, Steve hears a door close, and then Phil’s, “What the _hell_.” He snorts to himself, and moments later, there’s a knock on the bar. Steve looks up at Bucky’s grin; it’s even more dangerous from close range.

“Water for a thirsty man?”

“Yeah, of course.” Steve pushes himself up and grabs a glass, filling it up with his gun. He hands it to Bucky with a small smile. “You’re allowed to come back here and fill one up for yourself, y’know.”

“I don’t want to invade your territory,” Bucky says, then drains almost the entire glass in two huge gulps, throat bobbing. From closer up, Steve really can see how sweaty he is, and he is, of course, still shirtless. He’s just so _thick_ ; he doesn’t have a perfect eight-pack because there’s actual flesh on his body. It’s obvious just from looking that he’s genuinely strong.

On the stage, Phil is giving Clint the “If You Break Your Neck Fucking Around No One is Going to Feel Sorry For You” talk, but Steve can’t look away from Bucky.

“You can invade anything,” he says, not thinking about how it sounds until Bucky smirks and leans against the bar.

“That so? Cuz, uh, your defenses seemed pretty sturdy.”

“They aren’t defenses.” Steve flushes dark. He glances over at the stage, but no one is paying any attention to them. His stomach flips, and he rubs at the tattoo on his wrist. He always does when he’s nervous. “Or if they are, they aren’t for me.”

Bucky’s eyes narrow slightly. “I don’t need to be protected.”

“I know, but...fuck.” There’s a whole myriad of reasons that Steve doesn’t mess around with talent, and this, the part where he’s making a hash of things before there even _is_ a thing, is definitely one of them. “I just don’t want to be that guy. This is a good place, and I wouldn’t want to ruin that.”

That makes Bucky nod and reach across the bar, closing his hand around Steve’s slender wrist. “You’re not ruining anything. Except maybe my life, since I can’t just fucking order a goddamn Miller Lite when we go out anymore. I’m gonna go broke buying fancy ass drinks now that you’ve spoiled my tastebuds.”

Steve laughs out loud at that. “I saw you drinking a Smirnoff Ice at Sam’s birthday party. I think you’re safe.”

Bucky’s face splits into a grin. “You were watching me, huh?”

Steve considers denying it, but it seems like he’s past that now. “Pretty much always,” he says with a shrug. He means it to sound self-deprecatingly nonchalant, but it comes out soft and a little pleading.

Bucky’s still holding Steve’s wrist, and he shifts his hand so his thumb strokes over Steve’s pulse. “I like you, okay? You’re not that guy.”

Steve’s heart positively leaps in his chest, but they’re in public, amongst their coworkers (and manager), so instead of throwing himself into Bucky’s strong arms or anything like that, Steve just smiles. “Okay.”

Bucky looks over his shoulder at the other dancers; Clint’s back up on the pole and no one’s really paying attention to them. Bucky turns back and keeps his voice low. “I don’t usually…’invade;’ on the first date. But I’d sure like to suck your dick in the storage room.”

And Steve says, “Okay.”

*

It turns out when Bucky Barnes says he wants to suck your dick, he’s not fooling around. With little more than a smirk, a twinkle in his eye and a “hold onto something,” Steve’s suddenly in the middle of one of the best blowjobs of his life.

He takes Bucky’s advice, leaning back against one of the shelving units and holding on for dear life as Bucky drops to his knees. He looks fucking gorgeous, still in those tiny little briefs. Steve’s seen it all before, but this time it’s not a show; this is all for him. 

Steve’s just wearing leggings, because it’s inventory day, and Bucky tugs them out of the way and has his mouth around Steve’s dick in a blink. Steve clenches his hand around the shelf and groans as Bucky takes him halfway down in a single swallow. Bucky’s fellated a lot of things on stage before, but there’s a big difference in seeing how he swallows down a banana, hair messy and free and a tacky cheetah-print loincloth slung around his hips, and actually feeling Bucky’s mouth on his cock. 

Bucky’s hair is starting to fall out of his bun, and Steve reaches down to brush it away from his eyes. Bucky hums around his dick, blue eyes drifting shut as he leans into the touch. His hum buzzes through Steve’s flesh, making him moan. Bucky wraps his hand around the base of Steve’s dick, holding him while he pulls off to lick the head.

He grins up at Steve, looking up through thick lashes. “You like it like this?” He lets Steve’s dick rest against his plush bottom lip, mouthing idly at the head as he waits for Steve’s response. 

“You asshole,” Steve says. He slides his hand down to cup Bucky’s jaw. Even just touching him, feeling the scratch of his stubble against his palm at long last feels like a treasure. Steve’s gotten really good at denying himself; he’s not as good about actually going for what he wants, but he’s getting the feeling that Bucky might be able to help him with that. “Course I do, fuck. I like it anyway you wanna give it, Buck.”

Bucky’s grin is bright, and Steve’s pretty sure that he’s actually blushing a little. There’s a first time for everything. “Just double checking.”

He presses a wet kiss to the tip of Steve’s cock, where he’s just starting to leak, then takes him in deep again. Steve can feel it all the way in his toes when Bucky sucks. He groans and tries to keep one hand grasping the shelf while the other wanders. He plays with Bucky’s hair, feels his his cock bulging against Bucky’s cheek, traces his fingers restlessly over Bucky’s broad shoulder. He can’t seem to stay still, overcome with desperate energy.

Bucky cups one big hand around Steve’s hip, holding him in place. He’s probably squirming around too much, but he just can’t help himself. 

“You’re so fucking good,” Steve says. He tries to keep his voice down, in case they get overhead, but it just makes his voice sound rough and horny...which isn’t inaccurate. “So good, Bucky, you have no idea.”

Bucky makes a low sound around his cock that might be a chuckle, and the hand around the base of his cock shifts down to squeeze his balls. Steve whimpers, and he’s pretty sure that’s Bucky’s way of saying, _trust me, I know._

He should probably be embarrassed by how little time it takes for Bucky to bring him to the edge, but it feels like he’s been waiting for this for so long. He bites the inside of his cheek until it stings, trying to swallow down his sounds. Bucky takes absolutely zero pity on him, sucking him down and teasing his thick fingers back behind Steve’s balls. His fingers are dry, so there’s not much more than a promise, but even just those fingers brushing his hole has Steve groaning deep in his throat.

“I’m almost there,” he whispers, and Bucky looks up at him, his blue eyes dark with lust, and slowly, deliberately pulls back, his tongue tracing up the underside of Steve’s cock. He’s almost all the way off when he dives back down with a vengeance. It only takes a few more bobs of his head for Steve to be coming, knuckles going white where he’s got his hand clenched around the shelf. “Oh _fuck._ ”

Bucky pulls off and pumps him through the last few spurts, come dribbling over his hand. He licks his hips and leans back, arching his back and presenting his hips to Steve. His briefs are pulled tight against the bulge of his erection, and there’s an obvious wet spot near the band where he’s been leaking.

Steve’s nowhere near as graceful getting on his knees as Bucky is, but he gets down there. He braces his hand on Bucky’s chest, feeling the iron strength of his muscle as he leans in to kiss him. Bucky exhales a soft moan against his lip, and Steve reaches down to cup his other hand over Bucky’s cock.

“I want you to fuck me,” Steve mumbles into Bucky’s mouth. He knows he’s babbling, but he can’t help it. He squeezes Bucky’s cock once through the damp cotton, then shoves the briefs out of the way so he can get his hand around Bucky’s dick. It feels even thicker than it looks, and Steve’s toes curl in his shoes. “Not now, not here, but. Soon, Bucky, god. I’ve thought about it so many times.”

Bucky hisses out a breath. It’s pretty amazing that he’s still arched like this, holding perfect form even with Steve’s full weight against him, even in the throes of pleasure. “You been fantasizing about me, Steve Rogers?”

“I felt really bad about it,” Steve says. It almost feels like confession; it doesn’t count if you’re having sex at the time, right? “But I couldn’t help myself. You’re just so…”

“Hot?” Bucky smirks, and Steve frowns and shakes his head.

“No. I mean, yeah. Of course. But...fuck, Bucky, everyone here is hot. You’re different. You’re _you._ ”

Bucky’s eyes widen, and he comes all over Steve’s hand with a grunt that almost sounds like he got punched in the gut.

Steve looks behind him and shifts back off of Bucky. He grabs a rag off the lower shelf, using it to wipe off his hand. He’ll throw this one out; Nick never has to know. He turns back to Bucky to offer him the rag; when he looks back, Bucky is looking at him with something a little bit like wonder. He takes the rag and doesn’t say anything. Steve swallows around his dry throat and, well, there was always one topic they could talk about. “I’ve been thinking about trying to make my own bitters.”

Bucky snorts, but he smiles. “I’d like to try those.”

Steve flushes and smiles back. “Good. I don’t know what I’d do without my best taste tester.”

“Best, huh?” Bucky leans in and slowly wraps his hand around the back of Steve’s neck, drawing him in gently for a kiss. He’s giving him room to pull away, but Steve has no intention of ever doing that again.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](http://villainsexuale.tumblr.com) for more ficlets, feels, and general debauchery.


End file.
